


don't you know i suffer?

by merrymegtargaryen



Series: supermassive black hole [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Rape/Non-con Elements, pre-reek theon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:06:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27342457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrymegtargaryen/pseuds/merrymegtargaryen
Summary: “Now, now, we’ve been over this, Theon. I can’t let you go. I need you!” Ramsay takes another bite, juice running over his hand. “What do you need, Theon?”Theon doesn’t answer. It’s another trick, he knows it.“Food? Water? A soft bed?” Ramsay guesses.Theon is quiet.“You don’t need any of those things.” Ramsay tosses the mostly-eaten peach to the side, moving closer. “The only thing you need is me.”
Relationships: Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy
Series: supermassive black hole [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1996837
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53
Collections: Theon Greyjoy Kink Bingo





	don't you know i suffer?

**Author's Note:**

> Thramsay is not normally my bag but I liked the prompt and wanted to give it a try so I hope you like?? 
> 
> Thank you Brando for looking these over <3

He’s been tied to the cross for days, at least. More like weeks. Maybe even months. Could be years. He’d believe it if that’s what they told him. 

Whoever ‘they’ are. There seems to be a never-ending procession of people, men and women who either torment him or tend to him, sometimes both at once. He’s always on edge when he hears someone coming, never knowing what to expect. His waking hours are full of pain, and his sleeping hours aren’t much better. He doesn’t know how long he sleeps, but it never feels like enough time. He’s trained himself to wake at the slightest sound, the softest scrape of shoes against the damp stone or the creaky swing of a door on rusty hinges. He’s learned his lesson, after the first few times he woke to cold buckets of water or knives on his skin. 

He hears the creak of the door now and his whole body tenses. The door is far away--down a corridor and up a set of stairs, it sounds like--but he’s learned to hear it all the same. He waits, breath held as he strains to hear the footsteps over the steady drip of water...and then a pale, smiling face with glittering eyes appears around the corner.

He begins to sob. Or he would, if there was anything left in him. There are no tears, no air left in his lungs, so his sobs are feeble murmurs, his shoulders shaking.

“Theon,” Ramsay says, smile widening. “Whatever is the matter?”

He doesn’t say anything. He knows better. 

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” the bastard asks with a mock-pout. When Theon doesn’t answer him again, irritation flickers in his eyes. “That’s a shame. And here I had a gift for you.”

Theon knows he has to answer now. It will be worse if he doesn’t. “What gift?”

“So you  _ can _ speak!” Ramsay declares triumphantly. “You wanted the gift, didn’t you, you greedy boy?” He moves closer, pulling something out of his pocket.

Theon flinches.

The Bastard of Bolton pulls out a peach. “Look, Theon. A peach. Have you ever had one before? They don’t grow in the North.”

Theon stares at him dumbly. A peach?

“Why don’t you try it?” Ramsay holds the peach up to his mouth. “Go on.”

Theon rears back as much as he can. He doesn’t trust it. There’s a trick here, he knows it. 

“You don’t like peaches? But I got it just for you.”

When Theon still does not eat it, Ramsay tosses it in his hand. “You don’t trust me? Well, I suppose that’s fair. Here. I’ll show you it’s alright.” He takes a bite of the peach, juice running down his chin as he smiles at Theon. “See? No tricks. Just a peach.”

Theon stares at the peach. It looks soft, and sweet. He’d like some of the peach. 

“You want some?” Ramsay asks, holding it out. “Here. Take a bite.”

There will be pain later; he knows the sweetness is only softening him up for the inevitable sting. But he’d like something sweet. 

Slowly, Theon opens his mouth. Ramsay moves closer, watching as Theon takes a bite.

Pain shoots through his mouth as his loose teeth sink into the sickeningly sweet fruit. Theon whimpers, pulling back. He tries to swallow, but some of the juice dribbles down his chin and neck.

“What’s the matter? You don’t like it?”

“Hurts,” Theon manages, tears of pain and frustration welling up in his tired eyes. It’s just a peach. It shouldn’t hurt so much.

“It hurts? Oh, I see. Your teeth.” Ramsay takes a big bite, tearing off the fruit with an audible sound. He talks through an open mouth. “Forgot you can’t chew. Not without some pain, anyway.”

“Please,” Theon whispers. 

Ramsay cups a hand against his ear as if he can’t hear. “What’s that?”

Theon makes himself louder. “Please. Let me go.”

“Now, now, we’ve been over this, Theon. I can’t let you go. I need you!” Ramsay takes another bite, juice running over his hand. “What do you need, Theon?”

Theon doesn’t answer. It’s another trick, he knows it. 

“Food? Water? A soft bed?” Ramsay guesses. 

Theon is quiet.

“You don’t need any of those things.” Ramsay tosses the mostly-eaten peach to the side, moving closer. “The only thing you need is me.” He leans forward suddenly, licking a stripe up Theon’s neck. The ironborn shudders, cringing as Ramsay licks the peach juice from his throat and chin. 

“Say it, Theon. Say you need me.”

Theon tries to make himself, but his lips can hardly form the words. Ramsay tugs roughly at the laces of Theon’s pants, and he lets out a soft sob as the other man wraps his sticky hand around his cock, squeezing hard.

“Say it.”

He doesn’t want to say it. He doesn’t need Ramsay. 

And yet...maybe he does. Ramsay feeds him, and gives him water, and tends his wounds. And he’s keeping Theon alive. Why, he doesn’t know...but if Theon wants to get out of here, if he wants to live...well then, maybe he does need Ramsay.

Ramsay flicks his wrist, and Theon hates the way his body reacts to Ramsay’s warm, sticky hand squeezing his cock. No one has touched him there since...Kyra, he thinks, in Lord Stark’s bed. He’d taken little joy in their last coupling, and there is no joy in Ramsay touching him now...but he stiffens all the same.

“See?” Ramsay croons. “You do need me. Not just need; you  _ want _ me.” He licks Theon’s neck again, teeth scraping his skin. “Say it.”

Theon strains against the ropes at his wrists and ankles, wishing he could  _ move. _

Ramsay moves his hand up and down the length of Theon’s cock, making him embarrassingly hard. 

_ It’s just because it’s been a long time, _ he tries to tell himself, but he knows that’s only part of it. 

It doesn’t take long; it  _ has _ been a long time, and Ramsay’s movements are smooth and sure. Theon closes his eyes, trying to think of every woman he’s ever fucked so he can finish. Kyra. The miller’s wife in Acorn Water. The miller’s wife he’d shared with Patrek Mallister. That girl in--

“Open your eyes, Theon,” Ramsay orders. 

He does, looking straight into Ramsay’s ice-like eyes. The other man smiles. “You need me. Say it.”

The words bubble on Theon’s lips; Ramsay loosens his grip, starting to move back, but Theon is  _ so close _ that he cries out, “I need you, I need you,  _ please!” _

Ramsay finishes him in two sharp jerks, watching as Theon pants and strains against his bonds. He sags against them when it’s over, full of shame.

Ramsay smiles at him. “I know you do. You’ll always need me. But don’t you worry. I will never, ever leave you.”


End file.
